Ghost Stations
You may not notice them as you walk past, but beneath some London streets there’s a world of hidden stations, secret platforms and empty tunnels.
London has the oldest underground system in the world, dating back over 150 years, so it’s hardly surprising it’s seen a few changes in its time.
Take a walk around the back streets of Mayfair, and by Down Street Mews you’ll find the original entrance to Down Street Station. The name may not sound familiar as it was only a working station for twenty five years, closing in 1932. It secured its place in history as the place where Winston Churchill secretly took refuge during the Blitz.
At street level you can still see the red glazed tiles and arched windows of the original station, designed by architect Leslie Green, although its former entrance now houses a small shop. But you can step back in time and explore the original station with a Hidden London station tour, organised by the London Transport Museum.
Going on a Hidden London tour is like taking a trip to another world, exploring dim dusty
BY ISABELLE BROOM
Anthea settled down in her deckchair and let out a long, contented sigh. She had made it. She was in Portugal, on a beach, with sand between her toes and sunshine warm as toast on her cheeks. It was beautiful, it was serene and, best of all, she was free to enjoy it alone.
When Anthea’s husband Phil had suggested she take some time away to rest and recuperate after the – he had punctuated the phrase with a polite cough – “recent turmoil”, she had initially refused.
She couldn’t simply swan off and leave him and the kids back in Surrey, could she? As it turned out, she very much could. Anthea opened the novel she had been trying and failing to read since Charlie and Maeve were born, sixteen and thirteen years ago respectively, and shuffled down until her bottom was in an optimum position of comfort.
A lazy breeze danced in from across the water and chased a few errant strands of hair across her cheeks, a soft whisper from Mother Nature herself, telling Anthea parent-to-parent that this was her time, that she had earned it, that it was perfectly acceptable to enjoy the moment, the solitude, the peace and quiet…
“Excuse me, love – is it all right if I pitch up just here?”
Anthea jumped, her novel dropping into her lap. The woman who’d just appeared beside her was sporting an enormous UFO-shaped hat that was blocking out the sun, and Anthea blinked furiously as her eyes readjusted.
“Of course.” She gestured with a hand. “Feel free.”
“Nice spot, this,” the woman said happily, unfolding her own deckchair and heaving a gargantuan striped bag down from her shoulder. From this she extracted a rolled-up towel, sun lotion, three magazines, a bottle of Coke, bright-pink flip-flops and a small cushion.
“Have to be careful with my back,” she explained, wincing as she lowered herself into the seat. “Never been the same since my Kyle was born. Over ten pounds on the scales, he was – head as big as a watermelon.”
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peace and quiet – away from all the demands, like.”
Anthea almost choked on the irony of the situation.
“The worst was when Big Tone – he’s my second-eldest – got arrested for trying to pinch a load of top shelf mags from the newsagent. Being big, you see, he could reach the top shelf by the age of twelve.” “Arrested?”
This time Anthea really did choke. “Yeah.” Kath was nonplussed. “He said his mates dared him, but that’s no excuse, is it? I couldn’t look the woman that runs the joint in the eye for years after that.”
A beach ball bounced towards them at speed, but while Anthea cringed in her seat, Kath simply stretched out a foot and booted it hard in the opposite direction.
“Then again,” she mused. “There’s no real harm in a bit of natural curiosity. Boys will be boys and all that, right?”
Anthea reddened as she recalled, once again, the topless images she had discovered on her son Charlie’s phone. Seeing them there had felt to Anthea like taking a bullet to the chest at the time – but was it possible she could have overreacted?
“I mean,” Kath was saying, “I pretended I was cross with him, of course, but behind the scenes, me and the other half were killing ourselves laughing.”
Anthea nodded in an imitation of agreement, before gazing away towards the horizon. She found that if she focused hard enough on that quivering blue line, where the gentle folds of the sea met the smooth cobalt canvas of the sky, she could almost zone out all other noise.
Almost…